


Pleased

by cloudsinmycoffee9



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsinmycoffee9/pseuds/cloudsinmycoffee9





	1. Chapter 1

She rolled off and away from him, limbs heavy and tingling with pleasure, and a low hum escaped her lips. He turned to his side, resting his head on his elbow to watch her come back to herself. He could smell her hair and he could smell their sex, and something like love and pride swelling in his chest that someone so beautiful would be his, and that he could make her feel like that.

"Oh, I still can't catch my breath, Ned," she giggled a little, raising her arm to fling over her forehead, and he risked a finger trailing down her chest, starting at the hollow of her neck, picking up slick beads of sweat between her breasts, still puckered from his earlier attentions. She shivered at the touch - he knew how sensitive she was in these moments - but she did not swat his hand away as she might normally do.

"Has something made you lose your breath, Lady Stark? Is it the cold of the morning?" he teased, lowering his hand to grip her hipbone.

She pulled her arm back to slowly raise an eyebrow at him. "Someone seems rather proud of himself, my Lord," she countered.

"I do not know what you mean, my lady. Have I done something I should be proud of?"

 *       *         *         *        * 

Was it the ale or the wedding, or just being away from the children for the first time ever in their marriage that had brought out this playful side to Ned? Catelyn had been uneasy about leaving the children alone at Winterfell, even for just a week, but Ned had refused to go to the wedding if she did not come with him, and she knew it would look terrible for Winterfell to not be represented. He was playing to her sense of duty and honor, she knew, but in the end, she was glad she had consented. Despite missing the children at nearly every moment, it had been wonderful to not have any large responsibilities looming over her, other than to look pretty when her presence was requested, speak politely with the other ladies, and congratulate the joining houses on the marriage.

A day after their arrival, the men had left the castle for a three day hunt. But Ned had confessed it was a Northern tradition to get the poor lad, just days away from his marriage, appallingly drunk, and then scare him with made-up stories about the wrath of women, the terrors of raising children, and make him drink for a few days straight.

Ned had laughed at the shocked look on her face, but explained "don't you see - when the real thing proves easier, he will be so grateful, and hopefully good to his wife and children?"

She had been unable to form a proper reply before Ned had kissed her soundly and walked down the hall to the stables to ready his horse for the journey.

She spent the next three days with the ladies around the castle. Despite her reservations, she enjoyed the time they had spent together. She slept soundly, though missing the heat that was always Ned's body beside hers. After breaking her fast in her room, she would wander the gardens and nearby woods with Lady Wull and Lady Liddle - both of the Northern clans and clearly accustomed to being out of doors even more than she. They would walk and talk of their children, their husbands, and their own weddings. Catelyn could not bring herself to truly confide in these strangers, but she could laugh and make polite inquiry. It was the closest she had had to friends in a long time.

In the evenings, the wine flowed freely, and the women would sew, play games, or just sip their cups around the fire, exchanging stories. At first, Catelyn felt like the outsider - she was the only one who had been born in the South - but the women seemed to accept her as one of their own after the first night. It helped that a maid from House Umber had appeared at her door the second morning, asking if she might help with Lady Stark's hair.

The men had returned on the third day, the husband-to-be looking just a little worse for wear, but with a grim determination on his face.

She had met Ned's eyes when the horses came in. His grey eyes probably looked cold to everyone else in audience, but she noticed how they washed over her as she curtseyed - she felt their heat upon her breasts, which were pushed up pleasantly against the sheer fabric that pulled against them. She felt it again as he dismounted and kissed her gloved hand, pulling her a little closer than was probably proper as he did so, but then he turned abruptly to see to his horses.

They had met again after he had bathed and dressed. He found her in the hall with the other women, laughing quietly as they observed the betrothed attempting to speak to each other in a casual fashion, mere hours before they would be wed.

He had bowed politely to all the ladies, then pulled her from the group, enjoying her blush as he led her to a small alcove. She could smell the ale on his breath, but he was otherwise clean. She almost wished he didn't have to bathe. There was something about her husband after a few days out in the woods - no bath, unshaven, hair unkempt - that Catelyn was attracted to.

She could tell in his gait and easy smile at her that he had, at least momentarily, loosened the tight grip he normally kept over being the Lord of Winterfell. It was good to see him so relaxed.

"I missed you, Cat." He kissed her hand again, casting another appreciative gaze over her dress. "Is this a new dress, my lady?" He reached out a finger to trace the outline of her breasts.

"Ned!" She looked around them. They were alone and no one was so much as looking their way. "Yes, I...I had it remade for this occasion."

"You look lovely," he said simply, his finger continuing it's travels along the hemline of her gown. She willed herself to breathe normally.

"Did you enjoy your time away, my lord?" she changed the subject, reaching up to pull his hand into hers, not wanting to go down a path that would have to dead-end shortly before the marriage ceremony.

"Oh, we had a laugh, yes. But, I confess..." he leaned in closer to her. "All the stories exchanged about how to properly please a woman," Catelyn pulled back, eyes wide, "only made me wish to hurry home to you..."


	2. Chapter 2

Her husband left her with that promising statement, and then wandered back to where the men were drinking ale. Catelyn stared after him, more than a little surprised at his blatant flirtation. It felt like ages since they had last exchanged such playful banter. Ned could be quite descriptive in their bedchambers, but he was rarely so suggestive outside of them, and certainly not when they were anywhere near the company of others. She was not sure what had set him off, but she was willing to go along with it.

She returned to the group of ladies, a few eyeing her with silent questions. Catelyn barely noticed as she refilled her cup of wine and sat near the fire, thinking to blame the heat for the blush she was sure crept over her cheeks. She stared into the flames, smiling softly to herself.

Moments later, she was back at her husband's side as the guests were called to the godswood to stand witness to the wedding ceremony. Catelyn watched the whole thing curiously - she had only seen weddings in a sept, with a septon, as hers and Ned's had been. But with the old gods, there was no official guiding of the ceremony. The cloak was exchanged in front of the heart tree, with the guests surrounding the couple in silence. The man and wife promised words to each other of honor, respect, and love, and asked the old gods to bless their house with many children. They looked nervous, but what she could hear of their voices was steady. Catelyn thought they might actually love each other.

There was a lot of silence for prayer, but Catelyn was not surprised, having learned about the practices of the North from her time at Winterfell, and knowing the long hours in silent meditation her husband spent in front of his own heart tree. Her arm was linked with Ned's, but during the marriage vows, as they stood on the edge of the crowd in the growing darkness of the woods, he dropped his arm to link his fingers with hers. She shivered at his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. It felt incredibly intimate.

The guests followed the now-wed couple back toward the Great Hall of the castle to begin the feast, and as they filed out of the godswood, Catelyn and Ned being one of the last couples to leave, he pulled her to his side to kiss her forehead. She let her arms wrap around his waist as his lips lingered on her brow, then lower to her ear.

"I love you, Catelyn," he said quietly. She simply tilted her face up to his in reply, smiling.

"Come, my lord. The feast awaits."

They linked arms again to walk into the Great Hall, taking their place at the table. Serving girls were busy placing food on their plates, filling ale and wine glasses, and music filled the air. One of the women Catelyn liked the most was sitting to her right, and quickly engaged her in conversation about the ceremony, asking her questions about the differences between a Southern ceremony of the Seven, in comparison to the traditions of the North. Catelyn could feel Ned's hand on her leg under the table, gentle squeezing her thigh, but she kept up her end of the conversation with Lady Brenna, who was more amusing by the minute, and by the wine glass, especially as Catelyn could feel, by the increase in pressure and speed of his hand circling over her gown, her husband growing irritated at the length of conversation that was keeping her attention away from him.

At last, Lady Brenna paused to ask the serving girl a question, and Catelyn turned back to Ned.

"Has that woman drawn breath since we sat down?" he muttered, his hand moving to the back of her wooden chair and tugging it abruptly closer to his own.

"Ned!" she gasped.

"What?" he asked with feigned innocence.

She laughed. "You are in quite a mood tonight, my love."

"Am I? A husband cannot miss his wife after three days away?"

"All the other lords appear able to share their wife, despite the same 'lengthy' absence."

Ned followed her gaze around the room, where indeed, most of the wives were simply talking to other wives. Many of the men had moved to stand near the barrels of ale, and were still making the same crass japes they had during their "hunting" adventure. The words "bedding" and "maiden" drifted across the room back to Ned and Catelyn, and they watched Lord Cronder make some very suggestive hand motions.

He turned back to face Catelyn. "Perhaps, but none have a wife as beautiful as I do." He moved in as if to kiss her, but Catelyn dodged him, smiling wickedly as she did so.

"Come now, Ned. Surely there are several wives here prettier than your own."

"No," he said quickly, moving to try and kiss her.

"But Ned, what about Lady Dianna? She is very pretty." Catelyn nearly giggled at the look of frustration that crossed his features.

Ned stopped his advance reluctantly and looked over. "I do not like her hair. It is...too long."

"Lady Ariette, then?"

He sighed and looked at said lady. "She always looks angry at her husband."

"Lady Brenna?" Catelyn whispered, cocking her head in the direction of the woman behind her.

"No, she is too loud."

"What about Lady..."

"No, Catelyn. Stop. I will not find them pretty, for they look nothing like you."

Catelyn had meant to tease, but his words made the rest of the room silent in her ears. She knew he had had quite a bit to drink, but his eyes were honest, even if they were full of desire.

His arm was stretched around her chair, and his body was turned toward hers, his face very close to her own and watching. It took all her strength to not crawl into his lap and kiss them both breathless.

She settled for her hand on his thigh, and leaned in for a kiss, her other hand scratched her nails through his beard. She felt his hand move from the back of her chair to the tendrils of hair the maid had helped her wind into lengthy curls. She kissed him again, then looked around, self-consciously, suddenly remembering they were not alone. No one seemed to be looking at them at all. She grew brave and leaned closer toward his ear to whisper, "Your pretty wife missed her husband, my lord. She wishes to show him how much upon their return to their bedchambers...she has several things in mind to do so..."

The look on Ned's face when she pulled back to position herself more appropriately in her own chair was priceless. She raised her wine to her lips, locking her mischievious eyes with his own, wide in surprise but smoky with desire. "What?" she asked, echoing his feigned innocence from before.

He collected himself and swallowed hard. "I married a wicked woman." Catelyn laughed in surprise. "A beautiful, merciless, wicked woman." He raised his own mug of ale and drank deeply.

"Careful, my love. I will need you awake for several more hours." Her hand on his thigh moved suggestively closer to where he wanted it most.

He shook his head. "Wicked, indeed."


	3. Chapter 3

_"I do not know what you mean, my lady. Have I done something I should be proud of?"_

 

*        *          *         *           *

 

She smirked at wide grin that stretched across the normally stoic face of her husband.

"Do not look so pleased, my love. I am sure we made quite a scandalous impression last night, leaving the hall early. The entire castle is sure to be ringing with gossip about Lord and Lady Stark: too cold and proud to endure an entire bedding ceremony."

He chuckled at the deep voice she had affected to annouce their aversion to a bedding ceremony. "Ah, if only they knew the truth, my love."

Catelyn snorted. "I am rather glad they do not, my Lord. I would not share the knowledge of our bedchambers with anyone." She flirted her eyes up at his. "It is to be our secret, Ned."

He smiled wider at that, pulling her closer to place open-mouthed kisses against her cheek, jawline and neck.

She let him for a moment, feeling her desire awakening, but then her sense of duty tried to catch up.

"Ned..." she whispered, even as her hand went to his hair. "Ned...we should get up..." she said again, unconvincingly.

"No, Cat. We should not." His leg found its way in between hers. "There are no children for miles to come interrupt us, everyone in the castle will be recovering from last night," he punctuated his reasoning with more slow kisses along her collarbone. "Let them say we were inspired by the marriage between - wait - who was it again?"

She laughed and hit him lightly on the shoulder. "House Norrey and House Liddle. Thom married Rodan."

"Precisely. Lovely ceremony. I was quite moved."

"Yes...moved your wife almost straight to the bedchambers, did you not?"

"There were at least two full hours in between the ceremony and...the moving. Catelyn, you are talking too much."

"It _was_ a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?" she said, a little wistfully. "They seemed to be truly happy to marry each other."

Ned stilled a little at her words.

"She blushed so prettily...I hope Thom is a good husband to her. He seemed to take his vows seriously enough." Ned pulled back to look at Catelyn, who kept her hand stroking his hair, but was now looking out the window at something far away.

He paused for a moment at her words. "Is something the matter, Cat?" he asked.

She turned back to him, almost embarrassed. "No, my love. I am sorry. I was only thinking out loud." She smiled and tilted her head up to kiss his beard, but he could tell her mind was still on something else, when she lay her head back on the pillows and slowly turned again to look out the window.

He sighed inwardly, and willed his passion to still. He knew she would not turn away his caresses, but he also knew her heart and attention would not be with him while she was mulling over something else. Being married to Catelyn for many years now, he knew how to make her say what was on her mind.

He waited.

He twirled her hair around his finger. He gave in to his own desires and kissed her gently, just to feel her skin and lips under his. He threw his arm across her waist and lay his head on the pillow next to her, kissing her cheek softly.

She bit her lip in concentration, and he could tell she was debating what to do or say. But his patience was finally rewarded when she began to speak...

"Well...it is just..."

"Yes?" he added.

"Sometimes I wonder if you would have prefered we married in a true godswood."

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not that.


	4. Chapter 4

"Married in a godswood?" he repeated, stupidly.

"Um, yes." Catelyn could not meet his eyes.

"But there is no true godswood at Riverrun. No true heart tree."

"Not really, no."

He waited, but she did not speak.

"Have you thought about this before, Cat?" he asked, drawing himself up on his elbows to look at her.

"Perhaps..." her voice trailed off, and now she was really avoiding his eyes.

"But why would you think of something like that? Do you think I resented marrying you in your sept at Riverrun? That I resent your faith?"

"No, Ned," she answered quietly.

He thought for a moment.

"I built the sept at Winterfell just for you, my love." She leaned into his hand as it brushed over her hair. "I would have you worship whatever gods you would choose. It does not matter to me."

She smiled and turned back to look at him for a moment, but with something a little sad in her eyes, even as she reached out a hand to run through his hair.

"I know, but your gods matter to you as much as mine do to me and I have wondered...and I know it is folly to think of ways we might change the past..."

"I agree," he said, soundly, not knowing where she was going with this line of thought, but suddenly feeling nervous.

She paused for a moment. "We were never even meant to marry, Ned - "

Something cold shot through him as she said those words, slowly, as if she were feeling their weight out loud. Unconsciously, he gripped her closer, and he registered her response against him.

She continued softly, "Seeing the ceremony for the first time last night, I wonder...perhaps it might have...meant more to you...if we had married in a godswood."

He blinked at her expression, which she kept carefully blank, but he could tell she was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she looked out the window.

"I meant the words I said to you in the sept, Cat. I meant them then, and I mean them now." 

Her palm came to rest against his beard, and he turned his head to press a kiss into it.

She didn't say anything for a moment, but closed her eyes, and her faced tensed as if trying to hold back tears and will herself to believe him.

She opened them slowly, and then looked brightly at him, seemingly resolved against he knew not what.

"I know, my love. I am sorry. I must just be missing the children and longing for home. We should get up and dress ourselves for the day's festivities." She smiled weakly at him, reached up to kiss his beard, and then rolled out from under him to stand and reach for her robe.

Ned turned on his back, watching her move about the room to prepare for the day. The newly married couple would be left alone in their bedchambers for the morning, but the rest of the castle would be breaking their fast and there was to be some entertainment, if he remembered correctly. And another banquet tonight, before they were all to leave in the morning. Though it had been a short week to Ned, he surmised Catelyn was perhaps missing Winterfell more than he was. He missed the children, too, and was more than ready to be away from all the crowds and people he did not know. Was that all there was to her sudden change in mood?

She disappeared behind a screen that led to a wash basin.

He felt confused. What had brought this about? What difference did it make where they had been married? He had never really given thought to the idea of getting married when he was growing up, but whenever he did, to be sure he always imagined he would one day marry under his heart tree, in the godswood of Winterfell. But then Lyanna and the Rebellion and Brandon...too many things had changed too quickly. There had been no time to go back to Winterfell - he had married Lord Tully's daughter in place of his brother, in exchange for the Tully swords. The marriage had developed into more than he could have ever imagined, and certainly more than he felt he deserved. But he doubted that it would have been different if they had married in a godswood. She still would have been Catelyn, he still would have been Ned. They would still have found love in each other. Why would she think - 

Suddenly, he understood.

Jon.

_"perhaps it might have...meant more to you if we had married in a godswood."_

_  
That must be it,_ he thought. _She thinks that I would not have betrayed our marriage vows, had we married in my faith, instead of hers._ He winced at the realization. All these years now, and she still wondered what they might have done to prevent his bringing home a child as his bastard. _She **must** know I love her, she must know how much,_ he thought. But perhaps she did not. Perhaps seeing Jon everyday at their home in Winterfell was just too much. He could not blame her for mistrusting him. He had created her doubt himself. _Oh, Catelyn..._

He sat up from the bed, reaching for his smallclothes and breeches. He thought carefully. Although he wanted, as he nearly always wanted, to tell Catelyn the truth about Jon's parentage...

She reappeared from behind the dressing screen, her fingers moving to quickly braid her long hair over her shoulder. She had already rearranged her features, eyes bright and smiling at him, if not directly into his eyes. She looked a little embarrassed, but still asked him, "Will you lace me up, Ned?" She turned her back to him before he even answered, knowing he would.

He rose to stand behind her, pulling at the laces in her gown, tugging her towards his bare chest.

"Ned - " she began, but stopped when his lips found her neck and his arms wrapped around her waist. She slowed her braiding hands for a moment, then quickly wrapped the ends with a ribbon before leaning against him. He kissed her neck again, and swayed their bodies together in the sunlight reaching toward them from the windows.

He felt her relax a little in his arms, looking up to the sky outside, placing her hands over his and threading her fingers through his own.

"It is a beautiful day, my lord, isn't it?"

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied softly, and then pulled back to tie her laces as best he could. She turned her head to the side, and he could see a smile tracing her lips.

He looked back out the window as he reached for his shirt and doublet on the chair, and Catelyn moved to gather her stockings and slippers. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

"I will see you in the hall, Cat," he said, as he jerked on his boots.

She looked up from her chair where she was pulling on her stockings. "Of course, Ned," she replied, her voice raised in a unasked question.

He came to her and kissed her quickly before leaving.

She stared at the door, almost expecting him to return. When he did not, she finished her preparations and rose with a sigh to gaze out the window again, her arms crossed over herself as his had just been minutes before. _Why did you say something, Catelyn?_ She cursed herself silently. _We were having such a lovely morning...you spoiled it. Foolish, foolish woman._

 


	5. Chapter 5

The castle was laid out much like Winterfell, and it did not take Ned long to figure out which tower held the maester. He was not exactly sure what he would ask the man when he did find him, but he had a singular purpose in mind.

Catelyn wondered if things would be different had they married in a godswood. Ned did not think they would. But he reasoned it would please her if they could be married in a godswood, as she seemed to think it would please him. He had heard of other lords and ladies, pious ones, it would seem, who would have their marriage ceremonies performed in both a sept and a godswood. It had been eleven years and four children since he had sworn to love and protect a young maiden, kissed by fire, among the statues and vows of a faith not his own. Perhaps the lapse in time was strange, but if Catelyn wanted something that he could give her...well, he would give it to her.

He climbed the rickety steps up to the top and knocked at the door.

"Come in," a small voice answered.

Ned had been expecting someone like Maester Luwin, but that was not what he found. Instead, he found a very round, very short man, leaning over a map with a magnifying glass. He turned to his unexpected guest, dressed in the same kind of long robe as Luwin, but the bottom inches were muddied and torn, as if he were too short to wear such a robe, but did not care enough to have it mended.

"Ah. Lord Stark. What brings you here, ser?" The voice was high and nasally. It seemed out of character for such a rotund figure, struggling to bow, with long brown hair that braided into an equally long brown beard. But his eyes were warm, and he smiled as he looked at Ned, who was suddenly uneasy.

"Forgive me, I do not know your name, Maester...?"

"Cogswold. Please. Enter. How may I help you? Are you or your lady wife unwell?"

"No, I thank you." Ned took a chair uneasily, moving several parchments and a cat off it, first. The cat immediately leapt back up into Ned's lap, catching him offguard.

"My apologies, Lord Stark. That is her chair."

"Indeed." Ned began to stroke the cat absentmindedly, who settled into his lap.

"So it is not your health that brings you to my humble towers?"

"No."

The maester waited a moment, but Ned did not yet speak.

"So...you wanted a history lesson? A map quiz? Your fortune told?" The maester smiled with good humour.

"No, not quite, no."

"Well, then..."

"It is just that..." Ned struggled to find the right words to continue.

"Yes, my lord?"

Ned took a shallow breath to calm himself before going on. "I wanted to know...how to get married in a godswood."

Maester Cogswold's eyes widened in confusion. "How to get married? Ser - you are already married. Quite happily, if rumours hold true."

Ned's head cocked involuntarily at the Maester's words. " _Rumours_?" he bristled at the words. "I do not know what you mean. I mean, of course we are happy - "

The maester held up a placating hand. "I only refer to the twitterings of the ladies about the castle, who noticed how quickly you escorted your wife to your bedchambers at the first chance you had last night. During the bedding ceremony. They claim you both looked...rather eager to be alone with one another."

Ned looked back at the maester, slightly shocked. "My lady wife was...unwell. She is not used to so much...traveling." His answers sounded weak to his own ears.

"I am sure," the maester waved off his attempted explanation. "Now, what is this about getting married in a godswood?"

Ned tried to compose himself. He stood from the chair, earning a growl from the cat, and walked over to the bookshelves that held, besides what appeared to be hundreds of books in more than one language, knick knacks and curios from probably all of Westeros. He picked up a compass and spun it in his fingers. 

"I have seen very few weddings in a godswood. I was fostered in the Vale and did not attend any ceremonies there, and I do not rightly recall any from my childhood at Winterfell. The few that have happened while I have been at home...I confess I either did not attend, or was not truly paying attention. And I wondered, after yesterday's ceremony, what is involved, exactly."

The Maester eyed him curiously. "You were not married in a godswood?" Ned shook his head. "Oh, I forget myself. You married Lady Tully in the sept at Riverrun, if I'm not mistaken."

"Lady Stark now, Maester," Ned replied, a little stiffly.

"Of course. forgive me. Well. I'm sure Maester Luwin would be happy to tell you more about being married in a godswood, Lord Stark, when you return to Winterfell on the morrow."

"Perhaps, but I would like to know now."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I do not understand..."

Ned sighed impatiently. He paced the floor for a moment, and then decided he had nothing to lose.

"Lady Stark suggests that we should acknowledge our vows in a godswood, to honor my faith as we honored hers when we were married in the sept at Riverrun. She thinks it will please me. I know it would please her to think that she pleases me in doing so. Despite our previous vows holding the weight necessary for me for our marriage, I sought you for information on how to procur a wedding ceremony in the godswood here."

"Ah," Maester Cogswold nodded in his chair. "I see, I see." He rocked back and forth for a moment in thought. "I do not agree with you, Lord Stark."

Ned turned to him, stunned. "I beg your pardon Maester?"

The maester held up a hand. "Forgive me. I am sure you are not used to hearing that phrase."

Ned actually chuckled. "Not out loud, at least. Except from my wife."

The maester grinned at him. "I thought as much. She is a singular woman, my lord. A singular woman. But let me explain. I do not agree with you, because although it might seem the most expedient way to satisfy your wife's wishes, I can't imagine you think this the proper godswood to marry in, if you were to marry in a godswood?"

Ned paused for a moment, trying to track the maester's thoughts. "You mean to say..."

"Exactly. If you are to go through with this, and I take it that it is a surprise?" Ned nodded. "Good, good, ladies love surprises. You should do it in your own godswood. That would mean infinitely more to both your lady and yourself."

Ned looked out the window, weighing the maester's words. "I suppose you are right."

"I suppose the sky is blue. I suppose water is wet. I suppose Winter is coming."

Ned turned sharply back to the maester. "Are you mocking me, ser?"

Unperturbed, Maester Cogswold actually laughed. "Oh, no, my lord. It is just that you are a man of logic and action, this is plain to see. I am a man of observation. You are not the first man I have seen here in this tower, desperately trying to decipher the desires of a woman he loves. Nor will you be the last, I am sure."

Placated, and slightly embarrassed, Ned turned back to the window. "And so, you suggest waiting until we arrive at Winterfell."

"Indeed."

"And there..."

"As I said earlier, Luwin would be happy to give more details. But really, considering this is more like a....well, may I be so bold as to call it an expression of love?"

If Starks blushed, Ned might have at this moment. Instead his pursed his lips and nodded tersely at the maester to continue.

"Indeed, an expression of love, and not so much an official ceremony...I believe the protocol need consist of nothing more than you and Lady Stark exchanging some words close to whatever spot in your godswood you find the most peace, the most comfort. If she knows it means much to you, it will mean much to her, as your faiths are different, and do not need to be the same. But clearly she wants to honor you."

"And I would honor her," Ned said quietly.

"What was that, my lord?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Ned cleared his throat. "I thank you for your time. It has been instructive. I beg your leave...I should tend to the hall."

Cogswold stood up from his chair. "The pleasure was all mine, I assure you, Lord Stark! Enjoy your meal!" he called, as Lord Stark was already retreating down the hallway with some purpose. Cogswold folded himself back onto the stool, and indulged in a good chuckle before returning to his studies.


	6. Chapter 6

Whatever errand had driven him from the room had not brought him back. Anxious to present their house in a good light, even the morning after a raucous wedding, Catelyn decided there was nothing to do but to continue getting ready for the morning meal.  _I hope he is not angry at me for some reason,_ she thought.  _Why did I say anything? What did he read into my words?_ She took extra time with her toilette, wanting to present herself as best she could.

 

Glancing one last time in the looking glass, Catelyn begrudgingly left the bedchambers alone and began to walk down the halls of the castle. Upon her walk, she encountered the two ladies who had become her favorites chatting in the sunlight of an alcove on their way down to break their fast. While Catelyn had been at first taken aback by the ease with which the two shared confidences about private matters, she'd found she enjoyed being included in their conversations. They recalled to her mind the many hours she'd spent as a girl talking and giggling with Lysa. 

"Ah, Lady Stark. Decided to leave your bedchambers after all? We wondered when we might see you again," Lady Widdle teased as Catelyn bowed to their company.

Catelyn looked up, mid-bow, stunned. "I - I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, don't mind her, Lady Stark. None of the rest of us do," Lady Wull chuckled, brushing Lady Liddle aside. "Although, we could not help but notice how quickly you and Lord Stark escorted yourselves to your chambers last night. I surmise there must have been something very exciting awaiting you there." There was a friendly twinkle in her eye as she spoke. Catelyn felt a heated blush creep across her face, but could not help the small smile that accompanied it. She ducked her head and fell in line with the ladies as they turned to walk toward the Great Hall to break their fast.

Lady Wull linked her arm familiarly with Catelyn's. "I take it you and that husband of yours had your own version of a bedding ceremony that had you skipping out on the rest of us?"

Catelyn bit her lip, unsure. It was not exactly proper for them to be speaking in this manner, and as the Lady of Winterfell, married to their liege lord, she knew she had to uphold decorum.Yet, their casual banter was infectious, and she knew they meant no harm. And for reasons she couldn't quite explain, she felt reckless, inclined to shock them just a bit and let them know the Starks of Winterfell were not so cold after all. 

She finally settled on answering, "I fear my southron blood still chills easily on cold northern nights. My lord husband is very good about seeing that I have a warm bed,"delivering her response with a decided raise of her eyebrow.

Lady Liddle threw back her head and laughed. "By the way Lord Stark was practically undressing you with his eyes in the Hall last night, I think there was little doubt of what bid you both leave the celebration early."

"Indeed. Would that my lord husband still looked at me that way anymore, or any man at all!" Lady Wull lamented with a dramatic sigh. "You may be a southron bride, Lady Stark, no offense of course, and we may have had our doubts about your becoming a northern lady in the beginning, but, well....the way Lord Stark looks at you, it's enough for us all to revive the longings of our younger days."

Catelyn was taken slightly aback. "I am not sure I follow..."

"Well, when we were just girls, you see, of course we all were simply mad for the Stark brothers. Mad to make a match. Our fathers as well. You know fathers - trying to raise the house and all, encouraging their daughters to entice the eligible lords, and so on. But we hardly needed encouraging. We all would have done for any of them. And what Brandon Stark did to most of us! He surely made his presence felt!" The ladies laughed heartily at the joke, before Lady Liddle elbowed her companion in realization. Lady Wull gasped in embarrassment. "Oh, gods, Lady Stark. I had quite forgotten, I am so sorry, that was so...I was so...please forgive me," she stopped walking, and Catelyn stilled beside her. Lady Wull pulled at her hands. "I did not mean to offend you. I hope I have not. Please."

Catelyn was a little offended. But though she did not feel she could speak as freely as they might, she enjoyed their company. She did not want to ruin it as she had apparently soured the morning with her husband. Her young, childish love for Brandon had long since faded - replaced and overwhelmed by how much she loved her life with Ned. She mourned for Brandon, they all did, but...their lives had found a way to go on. The ladies had been speaking of days long gone by. She should not hold it against them.

She shook off the comment. "There is nothing to forgive, my lady. I know Brandon was quite...popular and friendly with his acquaintance."

The ladies looked relieved. "I thank you, Lady Stark. That is most gracious of you."

"Not at all."

The ladies walked slowly in silence, almost afraid to continue their conversation. Catelyn pressed on, eager to resume their familiarity. "You were saying...something about being mad for the Stark brothers?"

Lady Liddle eyed her companion and continued cautiously. "Well, yes, I suppose. I mean, if you can imagine all of us as girls whenever our fathers would meet, and we were all together."

"Yes, we would play at being "Lady Stark," held captive by wildings and needing to be rescued by our lord! Oh, gods, were we ever that young?"

Lady Liddle laughed. "I blush to remember it. But we all dreamed of being a Lady Stark one day."

Lady Wull interrupted, caught up in her nostalgia. "It almost did not matter to which Stark we would be wed - we wanted to be loved by them all. They were all three handsome, in that wild, Northern way. And educated, kind, rugged the way a man should be. But all very different in some ways."

"Brandon, of course, even when we were quite young, was always loud and wanting to the be center of attention. He commanded attention, really. There was little he wanted in the world, that he couldn't get. He was so handsome, so dashing, always fighting in tourneys or hunting. He was quite entertaining, quite friendly," Lady Liddle supplied.

"Aye, and Eddard was mostly away with Lord Arryn, you see. But he came down from the Vale often enough. He was always well spoken, if you could make him speak. Since Brandon was betrothed to you, most of us girls were hoping Lord Stark would match Eddard up with a Northern clan."

"Exactly! Oh, we would picture ourselves at some holdfast, entertaining as Lady Stark, direwolf banners waving from our small castles!"

"Yes! And we would try to befriend Lyanna, you know, as a way in. But she was rather young, and always a bit wild."

"And so we would try to draw Ned out, but...he did not take to dance or drink the way that Brandon did. Very shy and serious. He was much more fun when we were but children. The older he got, the colder he got, that's what we used to say," Lady Wull chattered on.

"But can you imagine ever needing to speak with Brandon as your older brother, and then living with Robert Baratheon?"

"And then there was BenJen. I always liked his smile. Too young for me, of course, but my little sister always followed him about, hoping that one day..."

The ladies kept talking and reminiscing, but Catelyn was quiet. She felt an unnecessary wave of jealousy flow through her. Unnecessary because these were nostalgic remembrances of women who were now married and no threat to her. Unnecessary because even when they had been eyeing either her deceased fiancée or her now husband, she was but a name, a lady from the South, and not a part of the lives of those in the North at all. Unnecessary, but present all the same, for while she cared little that these ladies had pined after Brandon even when he was promised to her, she found herself irrationally possessive of Ned's past as well as his present.

But there was also a flare of pride - the Eddard Stark they were describing was not the husband she knew she had. Mayhap when they had wed, she thought him cold; but there were many outside circumstances that had contributed to that. He held his lord's face and lord's voice for the world to see, of course, but when it was just him and the children, or just the two of them alone...there was nothing cold about her Ned at all. _No, he does not seem cold to me now._

The ladies kept talking, and Catelyn heard bits of their conversation, but soon lost herself in her own thoughts, smiling as she remembered moments when the walls between her and Ned had begun to crumble, and eventually disappear...

She could remember the first time he saw Robb walking toward him, a few months after they came together at Winterfell. The pain of meeting him after a year apart, with a bastard from the war, had been a bitter taste in her mouth. But she had been determined to be happy, determined that he would love his heir. She had silently opened the door to his solar and placed the babe on his feet, giving a gentle push to go towards "Da-da." Ned's head had turned at the sound of unsteady feet, and he had instantly dropped from his chair and to his knees, arms stretched wide to encourage and receive his firstborn. The smile across his face was like nothing she had seen in their short time together, and when their eyes met over Robb's head of curls as he hit his target, she had managed to smile back. And that night he had knocked on the doors of her bedchambers for the first time since she had arrived.

Catelyn remembered with heartbreaking clarity the first time he had finished inside her with her name on his lips, and she could be sure it was she he was thinking of when he spent time in her bed. And then the first time they finished together, and the earth-shattering rawness of it all, and she lost count of how many times he said her name.

She thought of how he had walked with her through the castle when the pains of bringing Sansa into the world had begun. He dug his knuckles into her lower back, kneading at the ache, held her hand with a pale face set in determination, kissed her sweaty brow. And he did not leave even when she tried to send him away, telling her that being a Lord comes with it's privileges, and he would claim them now. She had growled, but in the end was relieved to feel his steady weight behind her in the bed, his whispers in her ear and his arms around both her and Sansa when all was said and done, whispering how proud he was.

Then he began sleeping in her bed, even when she could not yet give him her wifely duties...he would hear Sansa'ssoft cries and rise to bring her back to bed with them, folding his arms around both her and the babe at her breast. And the way his voice broke a little when he apologized for never being able to do this with Robb, as he reached his hand around to support Sansa's small neck as she drank.

She could picture the nervous expression on his sweet face, his hands behind his back as he walked her down to the front of the tiny building he had constructed and waited for her to realize what it was. And she could still feel his hands on her back and in her hair, when she had cast aside propriety and flung herself at his chest in happiness, whispering, "thank you, thank you" into his neck as his shirt soaked up her tears.

And how he bounced Arya on his knee, playing "horsie" with their rambunctious daughter, fielding her tiny fists and wiping the drool from her gaping smile, kissing her forehead with faraway eyes and a soft smile when she knew he thought of his sister.

Then there was the night after she had met with Luwin, and he declared her healed after Arya's birth. She had walked back to her bedchambers after kissing Robb and Sansa goodnight and found Ned there waiting, Arya off with a nursemaid. She had barely managed to say "where is - " before he had started undressing her. His need and his passion had been fierce, but he had guided her on top of him, cupping her nursing breasts gently, gazing up at her in adoration. She had never felt more beautiful.

And when she had presented him with another son, one to name after his brother...and had watched the easy way he would now cradle a babe in one arm and swing another up over his hip, smiling shyly at her as they walked down the hall to a meal...

Her husband was not cold. Reserved, maybe. And it had taken effort to build the bridge between them, to wrap the love around them. But it was there. And it was theirs. Theirs alone.

 

She was snapped back from her daydreaming by the very face she had been picturing in her head.

"Lady Stark? Lady Sta-ark?" Lady Wull tittered from behind her husband as Catelyn turned away from the alcove she had unconsciously drifted into, lost in her memories. Her vision cleared, and she could see Ned standing in front of her, a gentle but quizzical look on his face. Ladies Liddle and Wull stood a few feet behind him, heads cocked in amusement.

"Where your ears burning, Lord Stark?" one of them called.

He reached a hand for Catelyn's, which she took to steady herself, and then he turned to look at the ladies.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, my lord," they tittered. "We shall see you both in the Great Hall. Or perhaps we shall not."

Ned grunted an almost reply and turned back to Catelyn, who was praying the flush had left her face.

"Catelyn," he said simply.

"My lord," she replied.

They smiled awkwardly at each other.

"Are you all right? You seem distracted."

"I am fine," she said with an effort to not blush. "Did you have a successful morning, my lord?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You rushed off from our room with something in mind it seemed. I merely wondered..."

"Ah, yes. I had to...see to the horses. They looked well."

"Oh. I am glad of it."

They both turned to look back out the window of the alcove. Catelyn wished desperately for the intimacy of last night and this morning. She slid an arm under his and around his back, and after a moment, was gratified when his came to rest over her shoulders, fingering her hair.

The window looked out over the godswood of the holdfast. They stood in their half-embrace, both thoughtful.

She felt Ned pull her into his chest, wrapping his other arm around her, and when his head ducked, she felt his warm breath against her ear, tickling. It shook off her unease about the morning. They swayed together for a moment.

"I am ready to be home, Cat. Are you?"

She pressed her lips against the hollow of his throat, warm with the notion that she now thought immediately of "Winterfell" when someone mentioned "home" to her. Warm with how much she realized she loved him at that moment.

She pulled back to look at him.

"Can we leave at the first light tomorrow, my lord?"

He nodded as he kissed her.


	7. Chapter 7

Having made the decision to leave as soon as they could and knowing that he felt the same pull towards home as she did helped the rest of the day pass more quickly, even though they were pulled apart to separate activities after the morning meal. And when they all rejoined for the final banquet, crowding in the Hall, she had barely begun to look for him when she felt his hand find her waist, offering her a cup of wine as she turned to him.

She felt the blush in her cheeks as he slowly looked over the dress she wore, this one a dark green that she knew set off the color of her hair as it fell in soft curls over her shoulders the way he liked. He smiled to see the tiny silver direwolf brooch he had given her as a gift before he left to fight in the Greyjoy Rebellion. She had worn it every day after he left to remind herself of the strength of their house as she prayed for her husband’s safety during the war and her own as she prepared to give birth to their third child, wishing with all her heart Ned might be there to see it. She wore it now and thought of the life they had built together in Winterfell, smiling back at him. He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, leaning towards her to whisper.

“You are very beautiful, Cat.”

“I am glad you think so, my lord,” she answered, looking up at his dark grey eyes. They roamed over her face, down her neck, and she felt the heat of his stare upon her bosom before it returned to her knowing gaze.

“Everyone thinks so. But you are mine. I hope this night goes quickly.”

As they waited for the meal to be ready, the newly wed couple entered the Hall to great cheers and a few bawdy japes, both bride and groom blushing and unable to look at each other, but keeping a tight grip on each other’s hands as they proceeded to their places at the table. As the honored guests the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, Ned and Catelyn walked forward to offer their formal congratulations to the young pair, before stepping back and letting the rest of the guests properly greet them.

As they retreated into the background to allow the rest of the crowd to approach, Ned squeezed gently at her arm, pulling her closer than necessary, but she let him.

“Do you suppose we looked that terrified the morning after?” he asked quietly, leading her to sit on a stone bench beneath a window.

She looked at him curiously. They had wed under completely different circumstances than the couple most people in the hall were doing their best to embarrass – there had barely been enough time for them to be nervous. And certainly no time for celebration. Getting to know each other had barely been an option. She and Ned had only spent a few hours in each other’s presence, only a few hours attempting to make small talk. A dinner and a few hours to learn about the time he had spent fostered in the Vale, but that he loved Winterfell and could not wait to return; that she loved lemoncakes and to walk along the river.

A few hours to learn that he was sorry for her loss (she had stammered, too stunned to respond immediately. For how could her loss possibly compare to his? Brandon had been her betrothed, but he had lost his brother, his father, perhaps his sister… it was too much to try and understand. She had done the only thing she could think of - take his hand and murmur that she prayed daily for his family, and for the grief they all felt.). 

It had hardly been the wedding she had envisioned for herself for years during her betrothal to the charismatic Brandon Stark. Instead of romantic celebration of her dreams, she and Ned had only a few moments of stiff conversation where they both had tried their best to do their duty and wed a stranger. There had been a war going on, battles to fight, an heir to produce, and ghosts between them to try and forget for a few hours as they attempted to make that heir.

Thinking of the morning after, Catelyn couldn’t even remember if they had broken their fast in the Hall at Riverrun with the rest of the castle. All she truly remembered from that morning was learning that the carnal act of love was not confined to just the hours of night, and then running to the Sept as soon as she could get away, kneeling and praying to her gods that her new husband’s seed would quicken inside her to bring them a son.

But as she looked at her husband now, Ned had a soft smile on his face, his eyes still on the poor newlyweds as he linked her arm with his. His mind wasn’t racing through the hazy details of years ago - Catelyn could tell he was merely thinking about their own awkward wedding night, not the circumstances that surrounded it.

And perhaps he also thought of the subsequent evenings spent in their wedding chamber for the following two weeks before he left her for the war. Those nights had been far more pleasant than the first, although they paled in comparison to what she and her husband shared now.

She decided to play along, chuckling a little as she spoke.

“I am sure _I_ looked terrified, my love. I certainly felt so, even if you did not.”

Ned snorted at that. “I assure you – that was one of the most terrifying nights of my life, Cat.”

Surprised, she pulled away to face him squarely, wanting to read the look in his eyes. Her husband rarely spoke of his feelings, and she had never heard him admit to being afraid of something. “Ned – surely you jest. What had you to be scared of?” The memories flashed through her mind in the space of a moment - _Do your best to forget your betrothed, Little Cat. You must make an heir, do whatever it takes so that he won’t change his mind, and send him off to war eager to return to you. You are Lady of the North, now, you must be the Lady of the North_ – the words of both her father and her septa still rang clearly in her ears, even after all these years. _Did I not have more to fear from that first night than you?_ she thought.

He shrugged his shoulders, looking at her shyly and lifting her hand to his lips before speaking. “You were so beautiful, and so brave. I did not even know you, and I knew I must hurt you. I did not want to.”

She smiled softly at his admission. “You apologized several times, if I remember correctly.” He looked slightly guilty at that, opening his mouth most likely to apologize again, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead tugging on his hand and rushing to speak before he could. “The pain of the bedding was but a few moments, my love, and now nothing more than a faded memory. We made Robb in those few nights together, did we not? And he is worth any pain or fear to me. As you all are.”

Ned looked down at their joined hands and nodded. “And now when I come to your bed?” he asked quietly, a small but playful smile on his lips as he met her eyes again.

She lifted an eyebrow and smiled back. “Surely by now it is ‘our’ bed, my love.”

She could tell he was holding back a laugh as he smiled wider at her. “I am glad of it, Cat,” he agreed, in his deep voice that made her feel warm all over.

“Come, Ned. We should sit for the meal.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
The evening passed pleasantly, Ned’s hand finding its way to her hair, hovering over her thigh under the table, or locking their fingers together at every moment they could. Catelyn almost forgot her anxiety about his abrupt parting this morning, and the quick pangs of jealousy she had felt during her brief conversation with the ladies about the collective competition for the Stark brothers amongst the nobility of the North.

Suddenly, laughter broke out amongst a group of women standing in a corner of the room, and Catelyn looked at them at just the precise time they happened to be looking towards where she sat with Ned at the head table, as guests of honor.

The words Lady Liddle and Wull had spoken came rushing back to her. The ever-present curiosity about Ned’s life before she shared it, the shame of the bastard, her sense of pride and a thousand other thoughts and feelings flooded to stain her cheeks, and she lifted the back of her hand to press its coolness against her face, avoiding eye contact with the gossiping gaggle of females still eyeing the head table.

She glanced around the room quickly. Was she, even now, sitting amongst someone who had tried to steal kisses from the Stark brothers? Had any of these women succeeded in capturing the heart of this man she had come to love as her own? Gods forbid – was one of these women the bastard’s mother?

Before she could stop herself, she began quickly surveying the faces of the women in the room, as she had found herself doing during her early days at Winterfell, trying to find a trace of Jon in their features. The brown hair, the thick brows, the sullen expression he always seemed to wear...did any of these women match it?

 _Stop, Catelyn! Stop! What does it matter? What would it change?_ She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, commanding herself to be stronger. But she could not.   _Oh gods - does everyone know but me? Have I spent these last few days an object of pity? Have they all been laughing at me?_   _Catelyn - stop!_  She shook her head. Catelyn hated when she could not control her thoughts when she knew they would only lead to more questions, more doubts, more fears. Especially when they concerned her husband. _You needn’t do this to yourself. You must let it go. Let it go._ She breathed deeply once again.

As if he sensed her mind wandering to dark corners, Ned’s hand once again found hers, his calloused fingers tracing patterns in her palm, sending shivers down her spine as the warm familiarity of his touch collided with the cold feelings of insecurity she had battled for far too long.

“Catelyn?”

Blinking swiftly away tears of frustration in her eyes, she waited a moment before turning to her husband’s gaze. But he must have seen on her face how unsettled she was.

“What is it? Are you all right, my love?” he asked, solicitous as he had ever been, even from the start, but his eyes searching her face and his hands touching hers in a way that had taken years for them to both feel comfortable with.

 _What do I possibly say? 'I am thinking on your past, dear husband. Considering options for your bastard's mother.' Dare I ask?_ she thought, staring into those grey eyes that seemed to be able to read her thoughts. _Is she here at this very moment? Have I dined with her before? Do you still love her?_

She knew she could not say all that. They are at a wedding feast, at the last banquet of said wedding feast, and guests of honor as Lord and Lady of Winterfell. They have spent nearly a week away from home and the children, and so she blames that instead of saying too much of the truth. 

"I am so sorry, my lord. I think I am tired. I will go to bed."

"Catelyn. Of course you are. Let me help you to our chambers, my love."

He rose immediately to help her from her seat, but she found herself pulling away from his offered hand, silently and stubbornly insisting on rising by herself. She could not say why, but she did not want him to touch her at that moment. She feared that if he did, she would start crying and not be able to stop. She would ask questions that might hold answers she did not want to hear. And so she bit her tongue, because the Lady of Winterfell does not ever make a scene.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the surprise in his features when she refused his hand, but he recovered quickly, coming around to tuck her arm through his to lead her away from the table.

"Wait over here, Catelyn, and I will make our apologies and take our leave? I have already spoken of our early departure."

She nodded meekly as he walked away, looking back at her as he approached the wedded and bedded couple once more. She turned to look out the window of the alcove he had led her to, the same one they had just been in a few hours earlier, where she had reminisced on their beginnings.

 _Why am I doing this?_ she wondered. _Plenty of wives deal with bastards. I knew Brandon had a past before me - I even knew he would probably continue his dalliances even when we wed - and I was reconciled to that fact. Why won't those words about Ned leave me? I must be stronger than this, stronger than these thoughts._

She shook her head again, breathing deeply and resolutely against the emotions and scenes playing in her mind. She had always despised the weaknesses she found in herself, no matter how easily she managed to forgive them in those she loved best.

 

 _Strong_ , she thought.  _Be stronger than this._

 


End file.
